The Way Water Moves
by Katarinea
Summary: His wife creeps. In the night, sometimes, she will slip from their shared bed and pad across the floor to the door. She'll grab her robe and slip into it, and tiptoe down the hall to check on their children. Zutara drabbles. Rated for slight innuendo.


**the way water moves**

His wife creeps.

In the night, sometimes, she will slip from their shared bed and pad across the floor to the door. She'll grab her robe and slip into it, and tiptoe down the hall to check on their children. Her steps and the movement of her body as she sneaks are something beautiful to behold, trained by years of bending a silent, smooth element.

He never told her, but once he grew up from being the silly, proud, thoughtless prince he was at their first meeting, it became incredibly hard to fight her. The way she moved was almost pure seduction to his eyes -- the curve of her back evident, the line of her body taut and artful, her arms and water moving like poetry.

Inevitably, when she slithers back between the fiery red sheets and moves closer to him, he responds and wraps his arms back around her in what she thinks is unconscious sleep. But when he wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her shoulder, all he can think is that she can bend his water any day.

**jasmine tea tastes bitter**

While Sokka was searching for parchment and ink (nobody knew why then), Uncle Iroh took Katara and Zuko into the kitchen to teach them how to make tea.

She protested first. "My tea is fine! Aang, Sokka, _and_ Zuko told me it tastes great!" One glance at Zuko's cringing form told Iroh that they had spared her feelings and downed the tea.

"Perhaps, but one can always learn more!" Iroh took her hand and gently steered her to the teapot. "Now, you -- and you come close, too, Zuko! -- must start in a very specific way. Jasmine is one of my favorite teas, and. . ."

When the lesson was over, he left the two in the kitchen to make sure the tea didn't steep too long. They sat there, across the table from each other, more than a little awkwardly. Silence reigned for a few moments, and then they spoke. "I-" "You-" Another moment of awkward silence, and then Zuko shrugged and spoke.

"Ladies first."

"I was just going to ask why Iroh wanted you to take tea lessons. You grew up with the tea guru, shouldn't you know all about it?" Katara's eyes sparkled in the dim light coming through the windows, and the glittering blue entranced him.

"I. . . uhm. I don't know. He always said my tea was wonderful, so. . ." He scrubbed at his good ear, skin pinking barely enough to see in the light.

"What were you going to say?" She interjected before he could even open his mouth.

"You. . .er. . .you. . . look --" He was cut off by the loud _tingtingting _of the tiny, useful, _colossally annoying _mechanical timer that Sokka had invented. The Water Tribe boy was obsessed with schedules and being on time more often than not.

"Oh! The tea's ready! General Iroh!" She called through the doorway of the kitchen, already a whirlwind of movement as she drew water from the tap to rinse the teapot and teacups before they were served. In a spectacularly odd moment, she misjudged the distance between Zuko's head and the water -- and said water hit Zuko in the head, causing her to lose control from the unexpected event, and pouring water all over the newly crowned Fire Lord. She gasped and covered her mouth, eyes wide with shock and then laughter. "I'm so --" giggle, giggle "sorry!" She raised her hands to wring the water from his clothes, but he stopped her with an upraised hand.

"It's okay. I'll just go change. Get the tea ready." He exits the kitchen in a hurry, brushing by Mai who has been sitting patiently in the living room, and rushing up the stairs. He changes quickly and towels his hair dry, muttering to himself. _she'd have laughed in my face if i told her she looked pretty. probably. maybe. maybe not. . . i'll tell her when i go back downstairs. mai. . .knows what i think about katara._ His thoughts rush forward. Mai and Zuko aren't romantic interests so much as friends with benefits -- in his brief sojourn back in the Fire Nation before he joined the Avatar, they had become incredibly close. He will probably marry her, but he knows that while she used to harbor a girl-crush on him, she pines for someone else now.

He thumps his way down the stairs, eyes dark and contemplative. He sees Katara, out on the balcony with a cup of tea balanced in front of her, and Sokka is seated at the table with the rest of the room gathered around him. Aang detaches himself and heads out onto the balcony, so Zuko turns and pours himself a cup of tea. He takes a sip and turns around, in time to see Katara grab the back of Aang's head and pull him close, kissing him gently.

He drops the cup on the floor. It doesn't break, but suddenly, the jasmine in his mouth tastes bitter.

**senbon in his heart**

Every time he sees the Avatar and his wife and their seven -- _yes seven they're repopulating the air temples --_ children, it feels like his wife has driven a senbon into his heart. He sees the blue and grey eyes underneath brown hair, and thinks how much better blue eyes would go with black hair and gold eyes with brown.

Then the brood leaves, and he is left wondering if the senbon in his heart are poisoned. For every time she leaves, his eyes and heart grow a little colder.

**meet the parents**

Sometimes, when he's watching her play with little Aaroh -- named in honor of Aang and their uncle -- in the turtleduck pond, he wonders, would his mother like Katara? She is gentle, and kind, and so was his mother.

But he can't help but wonder what his mother was like when she wasn't gentle or kind. She had to have been fierce some of the time, for how else did she kill his grandfather? Fire Lords have always been firebenders, and his mother did not bend. He knows Katara can be incredibly fierce. When they first met, he was on the receiving end of that fire, and now anyone who insinuates anything towards him or their children is in danger of having their heart explode.

Katara and Ursa would like each other, he thinks. They are alike almost to a fault. Which in itself is odd, because they were raised completely differently. Maybe fire and water aren't that different, after all.

**monks should be celibate**

She comes storming into his throne room one day and demands to see him in his quarters. He raises an eyebrow, but dismisses his councilors and follows her to his room. She stomps around for several minutes as he brews tea -- oolong has become her favorite -- and her mouth works furiously. He doesn't worry because she gets into these rages when people say things to her. Ambassador she may be, but it is not a position suited for her fiery temper. So he doesn't worry. Not until he sees tears slide down her face. Then he sets the teapot down and strides over to her and gathers her into his arms. "What's wrong?" He's never been a man of many words.

She starts sobbing into his robes, and he's glad that it's been four years since his father was deposed and he doesn't have to wear armor to sessions anymore because it would be awkward to hug her with armor on. "A-aa-ang c-came to m-me in m-my off-fff-ice t'day and pr-proposed to me-hee-heeee!" He stiffens and clutches her closer. He knows what this means. She could accept, and leave him here with her heart, waiting for her occasional visits. Or she could decline and stay, and make the Avatar incredibly unhappy and the Fire Lord deliriously so.

His mouth tries to form words, but it takes him several minutes to get anything out. "You-you can go with him. If you want. I'm -- I don't want you to stay here unhappy."

Her blubbering only increases and she starts slamming fists into his chest, and then she starts yelling. "You _idiot_ I'm crying because he cried because I said no because _I love you you stupid little pigheaded sweet man!_" All he can do is freeze in place, arms around her shoulders. They have shared beds and bodies and families, but they have never said those words to each other. He says them every time he sees her big blue eyes, every time he sees the moon, every time he thinks of her.

His only thought is that he's never been so happy to have someone propose to his one true love. But still, aren't monks supposed to be celibate?


End file.
